Tales grow in the telling and heroes grow in stature, even the tiniest can stand tall among their own.
Descended from humanity, the orcs of Kuramen are a far cry from the bloodthirsty savages of many other worlds.
The players; survivors of an elite squad of mercenaries, are assigned to an assassination mission. Their task; to penetrate enemy lines during night, enter the fortified Holzberg Monastery where Sagranz has his command, and kill the elderly Hexenjaeger in his sleep.
If only it was so easy...
Fiery doom in two handy barrels. Unsurpassed destructive power. Comes with a five shot warranty.
More annoying than fairy fire ever was. And much more deadly.
In the dank,dense areas of the world where the vigorous and the decaying are intertwined and indivisable, lives the wise bagabond. But getting him to impart his knowledge is quite a chore.
Fanaticism can be just as dangerous as fire. Spreading like fire, it could spark rebellion and could lead towards violence. As a way to curb devotion to the abstract, king Hareth of Garilroot asked his Mages to come up with a solution for those too invested in an ideal.
Existing at once in the mortal plane and upon the plane of Fire, the Grand Pyre of the Phoenix is the ultimate testament to the power of the Lord Zevarith.
"See that one, with the burn scars and dark veins? Don't stick too close; he shoots fireblood before engagements. Keeps friends and foes alike at bay, it does."
"Kobolds have an empire? Since when?"
Don't run blindly for the silver vein or you will never see that what you seek is pain.
Crazy old woman, selling pieces of bone and fake charms. The fact that the villagers even tolerate the old eye-roller hag demonstrates a lack of piety to the Faith.
Ghostchasers are small nocturnal birds that have the ability to see what normal humans and most other animals cannot.
Even as humans can be, the Kel'Regar, too, can be touched by madness, and it can drive them to push to ends incomprehensible by the sane. The work of one such, Kararemi'ar'Salm'Torat, the Menangerie of Mad Creation, is a twisted, living structure, tormented by years of loneliness and incomprehensible need.
Mean ingredients bring mean effects...
Food, fun, and a mummy!
T'was a great roar, milord, and the ground was rent and the horses took their bits in their teeth and there was much confusion. No magic could reach so far, and none of our magehounds scented wizards. We do not know the deviltry of the enemy, and for this we lost the battle.
This sea monster seeks to devour more than just mere flesh..
Magik is slippery and dangerous to work with, and failure can have disastrous results. Yet the Sorcerer's continue to ply their art without the benfit of the engines and machines now widely recognized as essential to the making of magik.
One of man's most successful domestications has been that of the dog. Even in our world, the variation that has been bred is truly astonishing. It only seems natural that a world filled with magic and the supernatural could yield even greater variety. This is a collection of some of these possibilities.
The village sits on the edge of the deep fjord, often engulfed in mist or rain. Its people are fishermen, who work even through the sea-ravaging winter. And they pray to the gods of the deep.
At the beginning of every winter they hold a summoning ceremony. Three boats are taken out into the fjord, a hornsman on each. The mournful horns are blown in the language of the whales, the gods of the deep. The whales sometimes appear in answer to these calls, and it is taken as a good omen when they do.
To a party of PCs wandering the misty hills and valleys nearby however, the doleful whalesong of the horns can be disturbing and misinterpreted...